


Leaves of Fig and Geranium (or Situation: Code Red!)

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, Humor, Random - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd finds himself in a situation that quickly goes from Not Good to When I Find Them, I'll Make Hannibal Lector Look Like A Kitten. Grace is there too, and the rest of the team are definitely to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaves of Fig and Geranium (or Situation: Code Red!)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

 

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

It was cold.

Boyd wasn't sure how the hell it had gotten so cold, but he was absolutely frozen. He thought he might have left the window in his bedroom open last night when he got back…except he didn't usually do things like that.

Mind you, he couldn't remember going home, either.

In fact, thinking about it, Boyd realised that his bed was quite hard.

And uncomfortable.

And cold as well.

How odd.

He bravely tried to open one eye, but shut it again almost immediately. The bright light was like little pins stabbing his very delicate head, and Boyd was sure that if he looked carefully, he would see his team being the wielders of those pins.

His team.

Frankie, Mel and Spencer.

There was a reason Boyd was going to kill them, slowly and painfully, but he couldn't quite remember what that reason was. He tried to think, but the pins were back so he gave up.

Alcohol.

Boyd remembered that there was alcohol involved. An awful lot of it, if he recalled correctly.

A celebration?

Not quite. There was a threat first, and then the use of the most unforgivable thing; the puppy-dog, pleading expression.

Boyd could ignore Spencer when he did that.

Mel and Frankie were another story.

And all three together - forget it.

Admittedly, Boyd hadn't tried too hard to say no. After they'd almost lost Mel - it had been so close that Boyd didn't even want to think about it - he couldn't very well say no to them.

And Grace had agreed to go as well, so he wouldn't be the only oldie there.

Boyd just couldn't remember what they had been celebrating.

Wait…there it was. New Year.

It had been New Year's Eve, which made the current day New Year's Day.

Boyd allowed himself a moment of smugness as having worked that out all by himself.

Pieces were starting to fall into place, but gently; they were landing on safety mats, thankfully.

Boyd had dragged to a New Year's Eve party, and his memory of the evening stopped before midnight had been reached. That was definitely Not Good. He couldn't remember the last time he'd drunk so much that he, well, lost his memory.

"Ugggh," someone groaned, and if possible, Boyd froze even more.

He knew that tone; he knew who that voice belonged to. This was situation was slowly climbing the scale, from Not Good to Bloody Bad.

Boyd kept his eyes shut. He knew he wasn't wearing anything, and he only hoped he was covered up with *something*. The idea of Grace seeing him in his birthday suit did not appeal to him at all.

Well, maybe a little bit, but that was something for an entirely different time and place. Not extremely hungover and…well, Boyd wasn't sure where he was.

Silence followed the groan, and that worried the policeman even more.

Then he heard something else.

It was stifled, but the noise was obvious.

Grace was laughing.

Boyd deduced - quite correctly, as he would soon find out - that she was laughing at him.

He just wasn't sure why.

Deciding that bravery was needed, Boyd opened one eye carefully. When his head remained unlike a pin cushion, he opened the other one.

"What the hell…?" he muttered.

He most definitely was *not* in his bedroom.

Situation upgraded from Bloody Bad to F^%$ing Hell.

There were trees around. Nice trees, but tress nonetheless. And grass, which was nice underfoot.

But whatever was against his back was cold.

Boyd replayed that last part again, and came to the same, undesirable conclusion that he was without apparel.

A healthy breeze in his nether regions confirmed that.

Now he remembered why he was going to kill his junior officers.

"Morning, Boyd," Grace said, the amusement clear in her voice.

"Grace," Boyd replied, not looking in her direction. "Any idea where we are?"

"Not a clue."

"Are you…?" He couldn't bring himself to ask. Boyd really did *not* want to know what was going on; he was hoping it was just a bad dream and that he was going to wake up any moment.

Of course, if Grace was still there when he *did* wake up, he wouldn't object *too* much.

A small laugh escaped from Grace before she replied, "I'm wearing as much as you are, Boyd. Although…."

It was deliberate. He knew that. She had deliberately trailed off and his head, having a mind of its own, turned to look at her.

Boyd stared.

He knew he was staring, but really, it couldn't be helped.

Grace looked as hungover as he felt, but that's not what held Boyd's attention.

It was the fact that Grace was naked, and apparently tethered - Boyd made an educated guess that handcuffs had been used - to a post.

Well, she wasn't *quite* naked. Leaves were covering the most important parts, and Boyd actually couldn't see anything.

But by the way Grace was trying - and failing - not to laugh, the opposite wasn't true.

"Please tell me…."

"Oh, you're covered, Boyd. Sort of."

That was it. Grace dissolved into giggles and while Boyd wasn't too hurt, his male pride was.

Steeling himself, he looked down.

Situation upgraded, last time hopefully: F^%$ing Hell to When I Find Them, I'll Make Hannibal Lector Look Like A Kitten.

"Why do I get…?" Boyd spluttered, trying to gesture and realising he couldn't. Handcuffs again, probably. "And you get…?"

"Geranium leaves," Grace supplied helpfully. "And mine are fig leaves."

"They're huge!"

"To what are you referring, Boyd?"

Boyd stared. He was getting good at it. "How can you be so calm?"

"What good will getting worked up do?" Grace replied. "Don't worry, they'll come and let us go soon."

"Then can I kill them?" Boyd asked in a petulant tone.

"Only if I don't get there first." Grace smiled sweetly.

Boyd sighed. "Please stop looking at me, Grace. It only seems to make you laugh."

"What 'it' are we talking about?"

"Grace," Boyd said in a pained tone.

She smiled again. "I wasn't laughing at…I mean, it's your…attire that I find amusing."

"Really?"

She blushed and nodded. "Really."

Situation downgraded to This Might Not Actually Be So Bad.

"So, any New Year's resolutions?" Grace asked after a while.

"Yeah, no more parties, no matter how much people plead with me," Boyd replied. "You?"

"To be honest."

"Aren't you anyway?"

"Not about my feelings."

"Go on."

"I like you. A lot. As in possibly love you."

"Really?"

"Really."

Boyd smiled. "I like you too. A lot. Not sure about the love part, though."

"That's because you're a man."

"You noticed," Boyd said dryly.

"I couldn't really help but notice," Grace replied coyly, making Boyd blush, which was a novelty.

Situation downgraded: Could I Be So Lucky?

"Did you have any plans for today?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "Not really, but being stuck like this wouldn't have been my choice of activity."

"What would have been?"

"Well, after killing the children, I was thinking…keep hold of a pair of the handcuffs and I'll show you."

Final situation downgrade: Ker-ching!

"There's only one problem."

"What's that, Grace?" Boyd asked.

"What if they can't remember where they left us?"

Situation code red: Shit!

FIN


End file.
